Waiting for John
by bluecascade
Summary: Johnlock oneshots. Just short little stories. :)
1. Waiting

Sherlock was waiting for John to come home. He hated that he did this, this waiting. He would be mortified if John ever caught him. Sentiment is a chemical defect, after all. Usually Sherlock would grab his laptop or run to some "experiment" as soon as he heard the key click in 221B's black lacquered door. But this time he didn't hear the door turn, or the feet coming up the stairs.

"Sherlock! I'm home!" John clearly didn't see Sherlock right in front of him. "…Oh you're right there. Usually you're doing some experiment or something. Sorry."

"I finished all of my experiments."

"So you're just…waiting, then? Waiting for me?"

"Well…no…yes." It was no use lying. John may not be Sherlock, but anybody could deduce that Sherlock was waiting for John.

"That's…nice, Sherlock." Sherlock read John's expression. He was surprised, and a little…uncomfortable? Happy? His pupils were dilated…

John came home to find Sherlock waiting for him. It was very -dare he say- sweet of Sherlock. He often imagined that Sherlock did those kinds of things for him. John would never admit his feelings for Sherlock and dated a slew of women to cover them up. But now…he might be wrong about Sherlock, even though he said he was married to his work.

Later that evening they were eating dinner, or rather John was, while trying to make Sherlock eat.

"Please Sherlock, eat something. You're going to get sick. And you _are _human, and need to eat like a human, no matter how much you deny needing it."

"No. Human things can wait."

"Please. For me." A flicker of surprise crossed Sherlock's face, but it quickly hardened into its usual blank expression.

"Fine. But not a lot." John saw Sherlock's icy eyes soften. _What? What did I do? How did I make The Great Sherlock Holmes eat? _Sherlock must have seen John's surprise because he said "For you."

_What? Does this mean… _

"Yes, John."

"Yes what?" Just to be safe, John played dumb.

"Don't be stupid." _I won't. _John stepped the stride to Sherlock and kissed him.

Sherlock kissed John back. _Sentiment is a chemical defect. __**I don't care. **_They kept kissing, passionate and warm. _SENTIMENT IS A CHEMICAL DEFECT! _Sherlock pushed the voice away. Eventually they pulled away and sat in silence for a few minutes, just smiling happily at each other.

"John…don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Yes." John looked torn. "I can…I _will _break up with her."

"Are you sure? If you really lo…like her…"

"Oh Sherlock. I only dated those bimbos so that I could hide my feelings for you."

"John…"

"Shh…" John pulled Sherlock into another kiss.


	2. No

**A/N: So sorry I didn't leave a note on the first chapter. This is just going to be a collection of Oneshots but I might have some occasionally be two chapters. This is my first fanfiction and I hope you enjoy it! Reviews, follows, and favorites appreciated!**

**Oh yeah, there's some texting in this chapter between Mary and John. John is bold and Mary is just normal font. Also, this story flip flops between Sherlock and John quite a bit and I feel like that could be annoying so sorry if it is. When I change between Sherlock and John, I will put a dash, like so:  
John saw a bird.**

**Sherlock also saw a bird. **

**You get the point. Tell me if I should continue this one.**

It had been two years since Sherlock's death and John had mostly moved on. _Mostly. _He had a steady (for once) girlfriend named Mary, a job as a doctor (mundane but it paid the bills,) and a cozy (cramped) flat. John really thought he had moved on, but it was like the dam that was holding his grief, anger, and guilt broke and flooded everything on the two year mark.

_He's dead. My best friend is dead. "This is my note, John." I never even told Sherlock how I truly felt. I loved him and all his quirks, even the assorted body parts in the fridge, the strange chemical experiments, and the social ineptitude. WHY IS HE DEAD? Why did I not tell him I loved him? Did he die feeling alone? If he did, it was all my fault. IT WAS MY FAULT! _John's vision began to become watery. He pulled out his phone, thumbs flying in a meaningless blur.

**Mary, I'm going to be out for a bit after work. I love you. –John **

Ok. Love you too. –MM

Now all John needed to do was to get out of his office. He was going to claim he was sick but then he realized his boss would be able to tell instantly that he was faking it. "Dr. Hills? I just got a call and there's a family emergency. Would it be alright if I left work now?"

"Of course, Dr. Watson. I hope everything will be alright."

"I do too. Thank you." John grabbed his stuff, flew out the door, got in the car, and drove to Sherlock's grave.

A figure wearing a grey wool trench-coat and a navy blue scarf stood hidden behind a shadowy oak. He has brilliant blue eyes that are sharp contrasts to his curly raven hair and his snowy skin. His face is gaunt, and his razor-sharp cheekbones appear even sharper than normal. Sherlock Holmes stands, his eyes locked on his grave.

John's car reaches the graveyard and he cuts the engine. He wills himself out of the seat, mind and body heavy with what he is about to do. He walks through the manicured grass towards the detective's simple grave and kneels in front of it.

"Sherlock, I love you." John pauses for a minute because he swears he hears someone sucking in their breath. He disregards it and plunders on. "I should have told you before you died. I couldn't live with myself thinking you had died feeling alone. I was a wreck right after you jumped, Sherlock. I know Mycroft and Lestrade monitored me. I thought I had moved on by the two year anniversary. I have a girlfriend named Mary who I've been with for over a year. But I don't really love her, Sherlock. I'm just going through the motions." A single tear trickles down John's cheek. "It's always been you. I only dated women so you wouldn't know. I thought you were married to your work because you said that. I'm rambling, Sherlock, I'm rambling and I'm sorry. But today, all of my grief and guilt came flooding back. I can't take it anymore, Sherlock. I can't take it."

Sherlock listens to John ramble on and feels tears slowly running down his face. Mycroft sneers in Sherlock's head. _Sentiment is a chemical defect, brother dear. You aren't getting soft, are you? _More sneers. _I hate you Mycroft. _Before mind palace Mycroft can retort back, Sherlock sees John pull the gun to his head.

John shakily lifts the gun. He feels the cool metal press in to his right temple. "I'm sorry Sherlock." His finger pulls the trigger.

"NO!" Sherlock lunges forward and knocks the gun out of John's hand. It fires at the sky. John is now crying harder. Sherlock sits down behind John and pulls him close.

"Am I in heaven? Did I die?" John feels his head. No blood or wound. But he had pulled the trigger…

"No and no. It would have been yes and yes had I not knocked that horrid gun out of your hand."

"S-Sherlock?"

"I'm so sorry, John. I never…I never meant to cause you so much pain." Hot tears are still rolling down Sherlock's face, landing on John's sweater. "I needed to protect you, John. I had to disable Moriarty's network. If I hadn't 'died,' you would have, along with everyone else who dared to get close to me." John is silent, tears streaming down his face. "Come here." Sherlock moves so that he's facing John and gives him a salty kiss.


	3. Typed with Love

**A/N: Hi again lovely people! Thank you for all the amazing reviews! It means so much to me. I deleted some chapters because I feel like No went on too long and yeah. Sorry for not posting. I started school and I've been kind of busy…Anyway enjoy this little fanfic. **

Sherlock elegantly strode up to 221B while John tried to keep up, being a head shorter and all. "For the love of god, Sherlock! Why do you have to be so tall and long-legged?"

"Genetics."

"Crap. Did I seriously say that out loud?" Sherlock just smirked in response. Upon entering the flat, both men threw off their coats and immediately settled in to their respective chairs.

"Well that was an interesting case."  
"It was too easy. Our little murder friend left his DNA everywhere."

"Yes, but with blood? Don't you think that's a little…brutal?"

"Blood is fascinating." John sighed and eye rolled in response. He booted up his laptop so he could blog about their latest case. As he was reading comments on his posts, he noticed that a user by the name of anonymous541 consistently gave him compliments on his posts. Things like "Excellent writing," "Your blog is fascinating," and "This is my favorite blog." _Wow. My blog gets a lot of praise, but not _that _much. _

"I wonder who this anonymous541 person is. They're certainly a fan of my blog."

"Hmm? What was that?" Sherlock had moved into the kitchen and was working on some experiment of his.  
"Nothing. Someone by the username of anonymous541 is really nice. They _very _regularly compliment my blog posts." Sherlock just replied with an "Oh" and resumed his work. Under his breath, John muttered "I guess I'll just do my own research then." He looked up anonymous541 to see if they were on any social media. Nope. Whoever they were, they didn't have much time or want for the internet. John clicked back to his blog to see if there were any comments on his newest post. And no surprise, the mysterious anonymous541 had commented on and liked it. Wait…they had liked it the minute he posted it. Was it just coincidence or…? _It's just a silly coincidence. It's _not _Sherlock. I wish it was. _"You're sure you don't know who this is."

"How would I know who a random internet user is? Their username tells us nothing."

"Fine. Forget I asked." Sherlock looked genuinely hurt and John immediately regretted being so harsh. How _was _Sherlock supposed to know? He was right. Their username was useless and they had no internet trace. "I'm sorry. I was unnecessarily harsh. I just thought maybe you could internet trace them or something. I tried, but they have no social media or anything. I don't even know why I care who they are." _You care because you want it to be Sherlock. _John told the voice to shut up. Mentally of course. _If I said that out loud that would be so embarrassing. _

Sherlock looked surprised and quickly said "I'm the user. That's why I wouldn't help you." He immediately looked down, cheeks flushed.

"What? Why? That's so…sweet. Why didn't you say it was you?"

"I…I…did it because I love you. Because you're the only person I really care about." _Idiot! Why did you say that? You know John will never love you back. You shouldn't even _be _in love anyway, it distracts from your work. _

"Sherlock I…" John's sentence was interrupted by Sherlock kissing him. Sherlock's mind was filled with satisfaction and passion. He had waited so long to do this. He had tried so hard to stay away, he really had. But he couldn't resist anymore. And John was kissing back.

When they finally pulled away, John whispered the rest of his sentence into Sherlock's ear. "I love you."


	4. Bored

**A/N: Sorry I haven't written in forever! I'm sooooo busy with school ****L****. Anyway enjoy this little fanfic. Reviews, follows, and favorites always appreciated!**

Click. The door to 221B Baker Street opens and John enters the messy flat. John walks past Sherlock, sits down, and boots up his laptop.

"John! I'm bored."

"Yeah…and I'm busy. Don't you have some experiment to do or something?"

"Experiments are boring." Sherlock is splayed out on the couch, his head hanging off of the edge.

"Don't do that, you'll lose circulation in most of your body. Not to mention you'll feel extremely light headed."

"Come stop me then." Sherlock's lips turn up in a smirk. John just shakes his head and continues writing his blog post. Sherlock's smirk rearranges itself into a disappointed pout, but John doesn't see. He remains in his position, his face slowly growing redder. Click, click, clickety-click. _I. Am. So. Bored. John pay attention! _Sherlock reaches into a fuzzy couch crevice sand pulls out a pistol. He proceeds to shoot the wall. Bang! Bang! Bang! John jumps straight out of his chair, his laptop flying into the air.

"For god's sake, Sherlock! What the _hell _was that?"

"I was bored."

"Yeah, and my laptop is toast!"

"I scared you." The smirk has returned. John just makes a grumbling noise in response. "I'm still bored." _Sherlock is like petulant child_, John thinks._ And he's _still _hanging his head upside down_. "My head hurts." Instead of replying, John walks over to Sherlock and gently lifts his head.

"Is that better?" John's voice is soft and gentle. After Sherlock gets over his head rush, he looks imploringly into John's grey-green-blue eyes and wraps his arms around the shorter man's shoulders. A muffled "Bored" escapes Sherlock's lips. John places his hand on Sherlock's raven head and strokes his soft hair.

"Still bored?" He says this in a hushed tone.

"No." Sherlock immerses himself in John, all spice and muscle. They remain almost exactly like that the rest of the night until both men fall asleep.


	5. Relapse

**A/N: Beware this one is really angsty and feel-y. Sorry. **

Ever since John got married Sherlock had slipped back into his old habits. He knew it wasn't right, but he just couldn't accept the fact that John chose Mary over him. Mary had shot him, for god's sake. How could John live with that? Sherlock had given John that whole spiel about him choosing Mary because he enjoyed the lifestyle, but inside it still hurt. Or maybe that was the after effects of the wound. With a quivering hand, he lifted the silver needle and pressed it into his purple veins.

On the other side of London, John was pacing around his and Mary's flat, thinking about none other than a certain detective. He still couldn't get over Mary shooting Sherlock. Mary knew he would never forgive her, why did she stay? Oh right, the baby. _Why did I have to get her pregnant_? John thought bitterly. _I will always choose Sherlock over her._

Ping! John's phone went off. _Now who could that possibly be at this hour? _He wondered.

It was from...Sherlock? What did it say? He unlocked his phone, quick as lightning. As he read the text, his heart caught in his throat. "Mary, I'm going out." His voice was raw with emotion.

"Okay honey! Just come home in time for dinner!"

"Will do!" He grabbed his coat and sprinted out the door, the cold winter's wind like a cloak that numbed his enter body.

Sherlock is slipping, slipping, slipping away John is running, running, up the stairs to 221B Sherlock is falling into death...

John bursts through the door...

Sherlock sucks in for breath...

John reaches Sherlock...

Sherlock's eyes flutter closed…

John places his strong hands on the skinny man's chest and pushes, one...two...three...

Eyelids slowly open to reveal bloodshot, but brilliant blue eyes.

A tear trickles down the soldier's face.

"John..."

"Don't you _ever _do that again." John is trying to be firm, but he can't stop crying.

"Only...if...you...stay...with...me."

In response, John leans forward and whispers "Always."


	6. The Reunion Part One

**A/N: This one will have multiple parts. Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow! **

Sherlock swayed in the wind at top of St. Bart's. There was no faking this time. He was done. What about John? "John doesn't love me. He's not there anymore." He said this to no one in particular. Wait. He might come. The detective scoffed out loud. He'll never come for me. But the tiny ember the glowed alight inside his icy heart told him to stay in this world for just a little longer.

John climbed the stairs to the roof of St. Bart's in a daze. He couldn't do this anymore. Mary was gone, and he needed…he needed Sherlock. But Sherlock wasn't around anymore. They had fallen out of touch two years ago. . He gripped the iron railing and took the final step. As the wind whipped his face, the doctor noticed another person standing on the roof. It was a tall man with a very familiar trench coat… "S-Sherlock?"

"John?" Sherlock turned to face the soldier. An audible gasp escaped from John's mouth. Sherlock's face was gaunt, his skin ashy, and his brilliant blue eyes had a smoky haze covering them.

"Sherlock…why are you here?"

"After you left, I was okay for a while. But when you stopped talking to me, I just fell apart. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I started doing drugs again. I can't take missing you anymore." A perfect teardrop made a slow descent down Sherlock's face, catching on his cheekbones. John can't hold it in anymore. He sprints towards the detective and pulls him into a kiss, all the while slowly pushing him away from the edge.

Sherlock finally comes up for air, and now he's full-on sobbing. "Sherlock…I'm so sorry. Did I do something wrong?" John's eyes are filled with a sadness that Sherlock couldn't even begin to describe.

"No." Hiccup. "It's just that my heart…it froze, and then, like glass, it shattered. And now it is reforming, but with a raging fire. It's burning me up." Hiccup. "Love is clawing at my heart, screaming to be free. I've repressed it for far too long."

"Oh…Sherlock…" John gently wiped the tears off of Sherlock's face. He drew Sherlock in, wrapping his arms around the detective's bony frame. "Let's go home." Sherlock nodded, tears pouring down his face. The soldier gently picked Sherlock up, noticing that he was light as a feather, and carried him into the car.


	7. The Reunion Part Two

**A/N: This is a shower scene but it's NOT smut.**

The door to 221B swung open. John carried Sherlock past the living room and into the bathroom. The shower knob turned to hot, and the water hissed on. John peeled off Sherlock's clothes except for his boxers. He repeated this process for himself and then led Sherlock into the shower. Hot water pelted them both. John grabbed the shampoo and started working it through Sherlock's raven hair. As the water rinsed out the soap, John leaned into Sherlock, pushing his lips against his. Their lips were soft and supple, the kiss deep and passionate. The detective and his blogger leaned further into each other. Sherlock's bony chest pressed into John's muscled one. They stand like that, wrapped in each other's arms, for a long time, letting the hot water seep into them.

Eventually, they break apart. John turns off the water and gets out, wrapping himself in a bathrobe. Sherlock takes the other, and both men walked into the living room. John sunk into his chair. "John…why were you on that roof?"

John took a deep breath. "The year we stopped communicating, Mary left me. One of Magnussen's old bosses contacted her and offered her a deal she couldn't refuse. Got up and left, just like that. Amelia was only three at the time. I held it together for a while, but eventually I just fell apart. Amelia has been living at Harry and Charlotte's place for a month now. I try and see her every day, but some days…Some days I can't even get out of bed. I couldn't do it anymore. Waking up, without anyone there. No Mary, no Amelia, no you. No one. I was so alone, Sherlock."

"John…I'm _so _sorry."

"Don't be. I made no attempt to contact you." Sherlock wanted to be closer to John. He wanted to snuggle him close and breathe in his spicy scent. So he pulled John out of his chair and onto the couch. Sherlock leaned into John and John wrapped his arms around Sherlock.

"What about Amelia?"

"I was thinking we would go get her tomorrow. She's five now, and think she could probably grasp the concept of two dads without too much trouble. Are you ready to be a dad?" Sherlock answered "Yes" with all of his stitched-together heart.


	8. The Reunion Part Three (Parent Lock)

**A/N: Should I make this its own separate fic? I really appreciate input ****J****Enjoy my Parent!Lock.**

**Don't forget to review and follow! **

The car pulls up to Harry and Charlotte's flat. John and Sherlock get out of the car and John knocks on the door. It swings open to reveal Harry, Charlotte, and of course, Amelia. "Daddy!" Amelia leaps into John's arms. The little girl has brown-blonde hair (from John) and blue eyes (from Mary.) Harry and her wife smile at the reunion. Amelia removes her head from John's shoulders and notices Sherlock. "Are you my other daddy?" Sherlock's lips turn up.

"Yes I am." John sets Amelia down.

"What should I call you? I can't just call you Other Daddy. That would be silly."

"Hmm…Well, my name is Sherlock, so you could call me Daddy Sherlock and you could call John Daddy John."

"Okay Daddy Sherlock! Can I ride on your shoulders? You're so tall!" In response, the detective lifts his daughter and places her on his shoulders. "Look Daddy John! I'm taller than you!" John turns away from his conversation with Harry (he was explaining the new…_arrangement_.)

"Why yes you are! What can you see from up there?"

"I can see the Shard!" Sherlock and John smile at this. "Daddies, why is that man in the blue t-shirt so sad? The detective and the blogger's smiles fade.

"How can you tell that, Amelia?"

"It's in his face, his face isn't frowny, but he has sad eyes." Sherlock badly tried to hide the fact that he was impressed.

"She's like me…but with emotions." John just raises his eyebrows.

"Well that should come in handy." Sherlock mocks offense. "Anyway…We should get going."

"Bye! See you soon Amelia!" Charlotte and Harry wave good naturedly. John and Sherlock load Amelia's stuff in the car and the drive the short distance back to 221B. Amelia chatters all the way home, asking questions about Sherlock. The detective is unused to such curiosity, but it's something he appreciates.

"Welcome home Amelia!" The little girl runs up the steps, accidentally smashing into poor Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh! My!" Mrs. Hudson did not expect to see John here. She expected to see Sherlock even less. "John! So nice to see you and…"

"Amelia. Mrs. Hudson, this is my daughter, Amelia. Amelia, this is our landlady, Mrs. Hudson."

"Our? So you and Sherlock are…"

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson." She smirks and mutters an "I knew it" under her breath. John and Sherlock roll their eyes simultaneously and head up the stairs. Amelia has already explored everything in the flat.

"Daddy Sherlock, why are there eyeballs in the fridge?" John facepalms and sighs at this.

"Uhm…they were for an experiment."

"Sherlock, this has got to stop. For god's sake. We don't have groceries, but we have _eyeballs_?"

"We didn't exactly plan ahead." John just shakes his head and mumbles something about getting groceries later.

"Where is Amelia going to sleep? It's getting late…" Sherlock throws out the possibility of their room, because they stay up later than Amelia. Couch? Upstairs bedroom? "She could sleep one of three places: our room, the upstairs bedroom, or on the couch."

"Personally, I think that the upstairs bedroom would be best. Then, she would always have her own room and bathroom." John agrees with this, and so he asks Amelia if she's okay with sleeping upstairs. She says yes. So the two dads carry her stuff upstairs.

"I promise you can decorate and re-paint it later." Sherlock gives John a look that says "Funds are tight. Can you really keep that promise?" John shoots back with a she's-our-daughter look.

"Can I paint it light blue? Oh and can I get a puppy? Pleaseeeee?" Amelia looks imploringly at John, already knowing that he is more likely to say yes.

"Yes light blue. No puppy." Amelia looks like she's going to throw a fit so he adds a quick "At least for now." Sherlock gives John another look. "Well Miss Amelia, it's just about your bedtime. Why don't you grab your PJs and then we'll brush your teeth."

"Can I have a bedtime story too? About one of the crimes you solved?" Sherlock replies this time, with an "Of course."

"Sherlock! She'll have nightmares"

"Oh, she can handle it." Amelia gives John her sweetest smile and he relents. They end up telling her A Study in Pink, and she falls asleep as soon as they finish.

After Amelia is sound asleep, John starts playing some slow songs on the radio. "Will you take this dance?" John extends his weathered hand to Sherlock's long, thin one.

"Absolutely." As the two men waltz around the room, John can't help but gaze into those brilliant blue eyes. Sherlock blushes, a deep rose, and gazes downwards. They are slowly leaning closer as the song reaches its crescendo. Sherlock tilts his head and their lips touch.


	9. Broken Wings

**A?N: Soooo sorry I haven't written in forever! I've been super occupied with life and my other fics, The Bullet that is Love and Duets (Teen!lock.) **

gold and grey

like broken wings

tears of grace

and cheeks of fire

raven hair

and eyes of ice

you have waited too long to take your flight

so you fall instead of flying

leaving behind all that you loved

crumpled on the ground with broken wings

scarlet blood

"let me through I'm his friend"  
so sad to see it come to end

it hadn't even begun

the seed barely planted

his heart is now long gone


End file.
